The Batman's Daughter
by I Am The Prince of Wales
Summary: In another world, Keith Mars is a different kind of detective... the Dark Knight kind.


**TITLE:** The Batman's Daughter

**AUTHOR: **Mike Pulgoni, Prince of Wales

**NOTES: **I don't know what it says about me as a writer that I've entered the stage where I need to turn everything into Batman, but there it is. 

I came up with this idea during a marathon run through the first season dvds... it will sort of vaguely follow the first season arc, but, you know, with Keith Mars as Batman and Veronica as Robin. For some reason, it made sense at the time.

This is written in first person, which I generally don't like in fanfiction, but the show is first person, so... there we are.

**RATING: **Call it a hard T.

It's just another weekday night here in Neptune, which means that while most people are either asleep or trying to medicate themselves into being attracted to the person next to them, I'm sitting on a rooftop watching my dad pose menacingly all night. "Hagen's going to mess up tonight," he nods grimly from under his cowl.

"Of course he is," I assure him chipperly from inside my European History textbook.

After another minute or two of scowling, he lets his shoulders drop and adopts a more casual tone. "Hey, I got a call to speak with your Guidance Counselor tomorrow... any clue what she's going to tell me?"

"That I'm charming and a pleasure to have in class," I reply briskly.

It's hard to tell with the mask, but I'm fairly certain that Dad's raising a dubious eyebrow at me.

"And that I keep falling asleep on my desk," I admit.

Dad shakes his head which, again, not that easy to do with a heavy cape and cowl on. "You know that wouldn't be a problem if you didn't keep sneaking along on my stakeouts."

"But this is when we have all our best daddy-daughter time," I pout.

Dad shakes his head again, he's learned long ago the futility of arguing with me.

* * *

Now, I know what you're thinking: what kind of brooding nocturnal loner has a perky teenage daughter? But I really am my father's daughter, despite what anyone says. I learned everything I could from Dad growing up, and even though he clearly has problems with the whole masked crime-solving aspect of me following in his footsteps, I like to think he's proud of me.

As for how he became a father, well...

I don't really know all the details, but back when Dad was still new at this thing, someone he really didn't know drugged and raped him... he can't really remember the details and he doesn't like to think about it. 

Which is something else we have in common.

* * *

Suddenly, Dad's spine goes steel; he's found the guy he's looking and he's about to break into Bane Industries. "It's time," he says with the kind of dark certainty that's only funny after you've seen him tear through the apartment looking for his keys. Dad leaps menacingly off the roof and I'm about to jump after him when I spot the Blue Weevil three rooftops away.

"So," I ask him coyly, "you have a reason to be hanging around on the roof or did you just want to see Batman at work." 

The Weevil is one of those wise-ass, street-level insect-theme crime-fighters that keep popping up everywhere. "Yeah, he's really smart to go after that industrial espionage crowd," the Weevil sniffs sarcastically. "I bet he's going to make a huge commission for taking_ that _monster off the street."

I shrug. "Everyone's got their own way to survive," I tell him casually. "_He_ collects rewards on the guys he catches, _you_ take cash donations to look the other way." Dad actually hates collecting bounties on the guys he brings in, but he doesn't have a trust fund to draw from or the time for a real job, so there's not much choice.

Weevil shrugs nonchalantly. "I actually came here looking for your Dad's help," he glances down at Dad, who is currently getting smashed against a wall by the guy he's booting in the face, "but since he's currently busy with more profitable work... how'd you like to help me deal with a problem in my neighborhood?"

"What kind of problem?" I ask.

"The kind the local sheriff won't touch because of the zipcode," he answers glibly. 

I shot another glance towards Dad. He seems to have everything under control. "Okay, let's do it."

Even under his full-face mask, I can tell Weevil is smiling. "You know how long I've been waiting for you to say that?"

"Weevil..."

"Come on, let's go," he insists, then starts jumping rooftop to rooftop towards the less exclusive part of town.

God, I hope I can remember what roof I left my homework on tomorrow. 


End file.
